When No One is Around
by Minerva Magic
Summary: A lot of dancing a lot of romance-fluffy, descriptive piece about Minerva's secret passion- By Mini Minerva of Minerva Magic. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. Applies to whole story.


When No One Is Around  
  
In a castle somewhere there was a tower. In the tower there  
was a room, with a window overlooking a lake, and the rising  
purple mountains beyond it. In the room, there was a desk,  
piled neatly with papers and quills of every kind, and  
sitting at the desk, working tirelessly was a woman. Her face  
was creased from concentration, and after hours of work, the  
tight, sleek bun at the back of her head was beginning to  
come loose, allowing strands of her lustrous, ebony hair to  
fall about her face. There was only the sound of her quill  
scratching on parchment and the occasional call of a bird to  
break the silence. She heaved a sigh and dropped her quill  
abruptly. The luscious orange hues of the evening sun were  
spilling through the window on the opposite wall and flooding  
the drab and slightly stuffy room with a warm light.  
  
She stood up slowly and walked to the window, allowing her skin  
bask in the warmth of the setting sun. The light it was spreading  
across the vast landscape below gave the grounds a friendly,  
welcoming look. The look of a field of lush, green grass, warmed by  
the summer sun and ready to cushion bare feet as you danced across  
it. The woman reached out and with some difficulty fully opened the  
window, what's glass was still heated from the intense, afternoon  
sun, allowing a tantalizing breeze to come through and dance around  
her. She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes, inhaling the  
sweet scent of summer. It smelt of flowers in bloom and the crisp,  
refreshing scent of the lake. She could hear the breeze rustling  
the leaves of the poplar trees, and the slow, soothing sound of  
languid waves lapping on the shore. She opened her eyes and again  
and leaned her weight on the windowsill, taking in the breathtaking  
beauty of the land.  
  
She shaded her eyes with one hand and looked out at the scaling  
mountains, massive silhouettes outlined against the light horizon.  
Looking at the grounds was a soothing activity, and always calmed  
her nerves. On this very night, breathing in the scent of a  
summer's evening, admiring the boundless terrain, she was taken  
back many years to her childhood, when she would dance across the  
lawn on a summer's night like this. There would be beautiful music  
and everything she knew would vanish, only to be replaced by a  
lilting, rhythmic tune that would take over her body and move her  
in artful and graceful ways. And now the positions and painstaking  
moves were flooding back to her and everything of her being just  
wanted to dance; and so she did.  
  
Kicking off her rather tight shoes that now seemed far too hot, she  
leapt across the small space to the sound of the waves and the wind  
in the trees. She moved through the room with grace and precision,  
her body moving with a passion that she never knew she had. As she  
leaped and twirled about the room, her heart began to beat faster;  
her hair unwound from it's confining pins and danced around her  
head. There was music in her mind, a euphonious, melodious tune  
that she knew but couldn't place, and there was a rhythm that her  
heart was beating in the confines of her soul. And as the beat grew  
faster, her fluid movements became swifter. She swept across the  
dull room, and forgot where she was. She forgot everything except  
the sweet, summer breeze that blew in and gently ruffled her hair,  
and the methodical beating of the waves upon the rocks and her bare  
feet on the floor.  
  
The click of a door opening and shutting couldn't break her from  
her own private realm. It seemed that she was not dancing anymore,  
but the music was pounding in her very veins and flooding  
throughout her, bending and twirling and twisting her body into  
positions that she never knew she could do. She reached a climax;  
she moved so swiftly, leaping deftly about, that the only thing she  
could hear now was that strange music and all she could see was her  
hair about her face. The wind blew harder through the window, the  
beat sped up and her pulse quickened. Her feet moved faster than  
ever before, she twirled twice in a row and leapt for a final time,  
landing on her knees on the coarse rug.  
  
She leaned forward to catch her breath, her hair hanging in her  
face. The music had gone as abruptly as it had came and now there  
was only the sound of the wind, the waves, and her heavy breathing.  
She was once again back in the dull, quiet room at the top of a  
tower, and crouching on the floor amidst papers and quills. She  
lifted her head slowly and turned to the window, allowing the cool  
breeze to kiss her face. It had been a long time, -so long in fact  
that she couldn't even remember- since she'd danced like that. The  
quiet in the room now seemed peaceful, rather than unsettling, and  
she found the will to continue working, because that's what she  
did.  
  
As she stood up slowly, stretching in a manner that can only be  
called feline, she spotted something -or rather someone- on the  
opposite side of the room. It was a tall, familiar man, who walked  
towards her with an outstretched hand and amused smile playing  
around the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Minerva my dear. I was unaware that you could dance so very well,"  
he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it lightly.  
  
Minerva's other hand was on her chest, attempting to slow her  
rapidly beating heart. This time, however, it had nothing to do  
with dancing. She looked into his crystal blue eyes and stammered  
his name with as much voice as she could muster.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore! Thank you, but what brings you up here on  
such a fine evening?" she asked, hastily trying to straighten her  
robes and smooth her hair; she wasn't appropriately attired for  
meeting with her employer. Not that their relationship was strictly  
professional, however. They happened to be good friends as well as  
colleagues, and maybe, Minerva hoped, a little bit more. She  
realized that Albus hadn't yet let go of her hand.  
  
"Ah, what else, Minerva, but you? I happened to be passing by and  
hear quite a bit of commotion in here, so I decided to -ah-  
investigate. Not a problem, I hope, is it my dear?" Albus finally  
dropped her hand and looked at her with twinkling eyes that held a  
hint of humor, as always. Minerva discreetly hid her bare beet  
under her long, green summer robe and laughed a little, relieved  
that her no longer held her hand in his; the tingling sensation she  
felt there made chills run down her spine.  
  
"Of course not, Professor Dumbledore, I was merely writing out the  
Hogwarts Letters. But might I inquire as to how you were 'passing  
by' when my room is the highest in the tower, and therefore is not  
on any corridor?" She quirked an eyebrow amusedly. Albus smiled and  
shook his head, giving her the grin that he reserved only for her.  
It could warm her from head to toe better than any sunset ever  
could.  
  
"Leave it to you to come up with something such as that, Professor  
McGonagall," he laughed placing a hand on her shoulder. "I never  
knew that writing out letters could require so much physical  
activity. Perhaps I shall join you next year. And please, call me  
Albus."  
  
Minerva relished the warm, comforting weight of his hand on her  
shoulder and took a step closer. There was not but silence between  
them, and Albus' eye took on a different look altogether. A look of  
yearning; of a desire so deep it was inexpressible through words.  
He leaned in a little closer, and Minerva felt her breath catch in  
her throat. He smelt so good- like cinnamon and.Sherbet Lemons. She  
allowed herself a small smile. Without a second thought they leaned  
in and closed the distance between them, their lips locking and  
fitting together like missing pieces of a puzzle.  
  
The kiss was long and lingering, leaving one's taste on the others  
lips. The sun was nearly set, a blinding sliver of light on the  
horizon, but it still filled the room and cast a warming glow over  
the two people in it, standing wrapped in each other's embrace.  
They pulled back, looked into each other's eyes and held fast to  
each other as if they'd never let go.  
  
"I never knew you felt this way," Albus murmured, planting a gentle  
kiss on her nose, "but I can't say that I am displeased." Minerva  
smiled leaned into his embrace.  
  
"Nor can I, Albus." She let out a contented sigh as he wrapped his  
arms around her.  
  
"But finally I have the answer to a question I've been asking  
myself for quite some time." Minerva ginned slyly.  
  
"Was it whether or not I loved you back? Because the answer is  
yes." Albus closed his eyes and let out a laugh.  
  
"No, my dear, but I can tell you that I am glad to hear that. You  
see, while I know little of your life outside Hogwarts, and much of  
your life right now, I have always had one question and tonight you  
answered it." Minerva lay her head on his shoulder and looked out  
at the almost darkened sky, and the almost black waves that were  
splashing on the rocks and reflecting almost perfectly the brightly  
shining stars.  
  
"Mmm, what question would that be then?" she murmured.  
  
"What you do when no one is around." 


End file.
